We are the Dead
by K. A. Mendelsohn
Summary: Grissom fears something more than anything in this world. Originally posted at geekfiction for the Summer Reading Ficathon. Thanks to chibs87 for beta’ing me.


**Rating: **Teen  
**Character(s)/Pairing(s):** GSR  
Prompt: George Orwell  
**Spoilers:** All, including Living Doll: season 7 finale. **NO** season 8 spoilers.**  
** **Disclaimer: **I own nothing but my thoughts. And sometimes not even that.

We are the Dead

_'You asked me once, what was in Room 101. I told you that you knew the answer already. Everyone knows it. The thing that is in Room 101 is the worst thing in the world.'_

Nineteen Eighty-Four, George Orwell.

**Doublethink**

WAR IS PEACE

"Keep her at a safe distance. Keep it professional".

That's what he decided when Sara told him the only unanswered "why" that mattered was the one related to the Holly Gribbs case. If she didn't want to talk about it, or them, or whatever they had back in San Francisco, then he wouldn't either.

That's how they stopped smiling at each other. The affection became friendship and soon cooled down to nothing more than respectful courtesy. And then, not even that.

* * *

"You want to sleep with me?"

"Did you just say what I think you said?"

"That way, when I wake up in a cold sweat under the blanket, hearing screams ... you can tell me it's nothing. It's just empathy."

Oh, God, he wasn't even on good terms with her as a colleague.

"I wish I was like you, Grissom. I wish I didn't feel anything."

Is that what she thought? That he was some kind of monstrous robot? He never imagined that pushing her away was going to end in so much hurt… for both of them. All he wanted was peace of mind, a sense of security, and Sara was the total opposite. She disturbed his mild tranquility. She took his breath away.

"It's easy to wear your heart on your sleeve when you're not looking in his eyes."

Oh… Sara. So many things he wished he'd done differently. She deserved better.

FREEDOM IS SLAVERY

Sara was standing by his door at the office.

"You tell me to get a life and then I get one, and then you expect me to be there at a moment's notice. It's ... um ... confusing."

He wanted to tell her how confused he was himself. How much he regretted letting her go. How much… she was gone. Damn, he was losing her!

"Isn't that what I wanted?"

He searched inside his heart for an honest answer.

"No. But, hell, I don't know what I want anymore."

Above all, Grissom wanted her to be happy, but he found out that denying his feelings for her had only intensified them and now he could almost swear he felt … jealous? No, no, no. If she was fine, he was too. But why **that** guy! That plain-bland-insipid guy named Hank or whatever his name was!

"You are on your own. Solo" he had told her.

He had a revengeful side? It was completely new to him. But he couldn't cope with all this tension. He needed it to stop. He needed to get her back. He needed to free himself of this enslaving sentimentality.

"I need you."

She smiled.

"How can I help?"

IGNORANCE IS STRENGTH

"As long as she doesn't know, it's alright." – he deluded himself – "Alright."

It had been an extremely intense case. He had worked three shifts in a row and had eaten nothing but some peanut butter and a yoghurt that Catherine had brought him. He was, frankly, exhausted.

He let out a deep sigh but more, much more than air went out from his chest. He felt like a train had run him over, and all he could think of was going home. And he did so.

* * *

Laying on bed with his eyes closed and the lights off didn't help. He couldn't sleep at all. He had buried his feelings for such a long time now, that he didn't know how to tame them anymore. And there they were: running around wild and free in his head, pounding his heart with such a force that he was sure it would explode. He hadn't cried since he was nine, yet he could feel the sting of the salty tears that were building up in his eyes.

He got up.

He hated the TV but it seemed that it was the only thing that could get his mind off the case.

"I couldn't do it."

Who was he kidding? He couldn't get his mind off her.

He flipped the channels at a steady rhythm.

It was worse, really. He couldn't get his mind off the feelings he had for her. It was easier when he ignored them, or denied them, but he was not used to lying, not even to himself, and now the whole world as he knew it was crumbling apart.

"What if… it had been her?"

The TV was driving him insane and he tried to turn it off by repeatedly pressing the Power button. It wasn't working and in a not-so-Grissom act he threw the remote away and mumbled an angry curse.

He got up to turn off the TV and when he did so, he saw his reflection in the screen. He looked so old and tired. So very old.

"She must not know. Ever"

He was not aware that she already knew. She was there, behind the glass.

The phone rang. Once. Twice. He didn't feel like talking to anyone, but it was too late. He had already picked up, in a reflex.

**Room 101**

"Grissom?"

He gulped

"Huh… Sara? You know it's eleven in the morning, you should be sleeping."

"You too and you don't sound like you were."

"I … I couldn't sleep." he admitted

"After three consecutive shifts? That's odd…"

He interrupted.

"Why are you calling me this early? The lab can surely wait until…"

"It has nothing to do with the lab."

"Oh… " he couldn't find any words to continue. Luckily, Sara filled in what otherwise would have been an awkward silence.

"I need to talk to you in person."

Grissom assumed it was really important. She never requested his presence so urgently.

"Where do you want us to meet?"

"Actually … I'm outside your house."

He heard a knock on the door, hung up and panicked a little. He put his pants on as fast as he could and ran to the entrance. He was very conscious that he looked awful.

"Are you ok?" he asked her as soon as he saw her face at the threshold of the door.

"Yeah I'm fine. It's you I'm worried about"

He laughed loudly.

"I'm OK, Sara. If that's what you came here for, you can go home."

"No. Listen I … I didn't want to put you in a position that …"

Grissom held a hand in front of him to make her stop talking and winced slightly.

"Please, Sara, I don't want to talk about… whatever that is. I'm tired and I really think this is not the best timing for…"

She snapped.

"Listen to me for once! I was there. I heard everything. I just wanted you to know…"

Grissom's face turned white. Just for a split second he felt terrified, but then anger boiled its way up from his guts.

"Go!" he said in a low husky voice filled with fury.

"But…"

"Just go!" he almost shouted.

Sara looked at him in disbelief. When she realized he wasn't going to change his mind, she became irritated, turned around and left.

What was wrong with him? Since when did he let his feelings cloud his judgment? He was being highly irrational, not to say a jerk.

Grissom looked outside the window. He saw Sara entering her car, but not starting the engine. He let some time pass but she remained there. He dialed her number.

"Sidle." she answered with her voice breaking a bit.

He was a monster after all.

"I'm sorry, Sara."

Silence.

"I'm so sorry, I … I didn't mean to yell at you it's just … "

There was no excuse.

"Would you come here again, please? I think that we need to talk."

He sensed that she was going to blurt out something sarcastic. But she didn't. She just let out a sigh of resignation.

"Ok."

What a load of patience she had with him!

"Come in" he said looking to the floor in shame "Can I get you anything?"

"No, thanks."

Sara sat on the couch and Grissom brought a stool by her side. She started fiddling with her fingers and he stood stiffly still. He decided to break the ice. After all, he was the one who screwed up.

"Did you see her?"

Sara looked puzzled for a moment. Then she understood.

"I only took fingernails samples, but Catherine said she looked like me."

She lied. She had seen her.

"She looked **exactly** like you." he shuddered internally and continued.

"You know what the worst thing in the world is?" he asked tentatively.

She cocked her head, inquisitive. She never questioned his apparent lack of sense, because she knew it always turned out enlightening.

"I guess… it depends on the person."

The answer brought a conceited smirk on Grissom's face.

"That's what O'Brien might have said too."

"O'Bri..? Oh, I see! _1984_, right?"

Grissom nodded.

"What's the worst thing in the world for you, Sara?"

"Umm… I think it would be war. War kills even more people than diseases, and devastates everything the humanity has learnt and built over the years. But I guess that's everyone's fear. On a more personal level, I think I am afraid of going mad. I wouldn't like to lose control of my life and thoughts. My mind is one of the only places I can shelter upon when everything else fails. And if that is taken away from me, I am sure I will cease to be Sara Sidle. Craziness steals your personality and dignity. Besides … I've been in those mental institutions… they creep me out."

Sara looked at Grissom with a frown. She already knew the answer, but she had to ask anyway.

"And what's the worst thing in the world for you, Grissom?"

* * *

"Pull up the case photos" Grissom looked really worried.

"Oh, my God. She was at the crime scene." He rubbed his mouth anxiously.

This can't be happening. It couldn't be true. It simply couldn't be. Why. Why did Natalie… Oh, no!

"This girl holds me responsible for the death of Ernie Dell. I took away the only person she ever loved, so she's going to do the same thing to me." he said absently "It's not about a psychotic reaction to bleach, or some dead sister or a doll."

He needed to talk to Natalie. He needed to know Sara was fine. That she was alive. But the girl didn't answer. Instead she was lost in her stupid inside world singing an idiotic melody. Grissom started shouting.

"STOP IT! Just stop this! Tell me where Sara is!"

His worst nightmare came true.


End file.
